


Whisper of Every Waking Hour

by Dont_call_me_Carrie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Demiromantic Tony Stark, Demisexual Tony Stark, Families of Choice, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Tags May Change, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 18:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_call_me_Carrie/pseuds/Dont_call_me_Carrie
Summary: Stark men may be made of iron, but Tony was always more his mother's son.Maria taught him from early age how to wear masks like a second skin, how to work the press, how to smile for the cameras even if his world is crumbling around him, how to hide his weaknesses from the spotlight.It was by no means intentional, but that's what he learned anyway.Because they had managed to successfully fool the world into thinking all was well in the Stark home, when nothing could be further from the truth. Not when Howard was out more than he was in, not when Maria coughed up flowers on a semiregular basis.Stark men may be made of iron, but it takes far more than that to carry on when it came to the Hanahaki disease.





	1. Consider This, The Hint Of The Century

**Author's Note:**

> Fic and chapter titles from R.E.M.'s [ "Losing My Religion"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwtdhWltSIg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warnings: since this is a Hanahaki fic, minor body horror related to that trope [because coughing up flowers? Not as romantic as it sounds like], plus some minor profanity [of the 'fuck my life' and 'what the hell' variety].
> 
> Goes wildly AU after the first Avengers movie, so expect team-as-family tropes, the team actually getting along, etc. [basically, more Avengers Assemble than MCU, in regards to team dynamics, from what I can tell.] Ignores the entirety of Phase 2 onwards, unless otherwise stated, since there's enough angst here as is.
> 
> Also? Bit of a cliffhanger ending, but I promise it's going to be a happy one [even if it might not look like it at first].

Tony Stark was three, the first time he saw someone cough up flowers.

He was three, the first time he saw his mother nearly choke to death on tiny, white, star-shaped flowers, and that was also his introduction to Hanahaki disease.

[ _Stephanotis: happiness in marriage_ ]

Not that he knew it at the time, exactly.

No, instead he’d been very scared, because even if he didn’t know why it was happening, he could still see his mom’s resignation and quiet sorrow, and Jarvis’ hidden concern. Could still hear their argument, after they thought he was asleep, about telling Howard, could still smell the chamomile that Jarvis had brewed for sore throats.

It’d been terrifying, because for an entire week, Maria was paler than normal, quieter, a tad more reserved in front of the cameras—and when she wasn’t quiet, it was because she was coughing up a storm of petals.

 

It was the first time he saw her cough up flowers. But most definitely not the last.

  
And it always happened when Howard was on his expeditions, the _ **really**_ long ones where he forgot to call his family once a week or so, and Tony didn’t need to be a genius to put the pieces together.

 

As he gets older, and learns more about the world, Tony finally has a name for it. For the thing that his mom treats like a cold, the thing that has her coughing raggedly late at night and has Jarvis’ brow furrowing in concern, the thing that she asked Tony to not tell his father about, when she’d realized he’d noticed.

Hanahaki disease.

Wherein unrequited love was painful in more ways than one, and the only way to get rid of it was to for their love to be returned, get over it, or to have the bloom removed by a surgeon.

…which his mom was not about to do, because Tony had sorted through several dozen books on botany and flower meanings to figure out what the root of the problem was, and that’s also right around the same time Tony decides he does not want to be like his father, **_ever._**

It’s also where he starts making a habit of helping his family where he can. Whether that means helping Jarvis get the kettle ready, or keeping a handkerchief on him at all times, it didn’t matter—anything he can do to help, to put a smile on his mom’s face, to relieve the tension in Jarvis’ shoulders. [ _It still doesn’t feel like enough._ ]

 

Tony grew up, learning at an early age from his mom how to wear masks like a second skin, how to work the press, how to smile for the cameras even if his world is crumbling around him because the media’s like vultures who’d pick at the smallest crack. How to hide his weaknesses from the spotlight, how to give a smile like bared teeth even if all he wanted to do was cry.

It was by no means intentional—but that’s what he learned anyway.

Because they had managed to successfully fool the world into thinking all was well in the Stark home, when nothing could be further from the truth. Not when Howard was out more than he was in, not when Maria coughed up flowers on a semiregular basis.

The world thought his father was a great man, and maybe he was, but…after he’d seen his mom quietly spit yet another small flower onto her handkerchief with the ease of long practice, he’d quietly resolved to never be like Howard, no matter what it took.

Not when Tony’s nightmares [ ~~ _finding his mom dead, surrounded by a sea of tiny white stars_~~ ] became a recurring theme in his childhood, especially when he’s at boarding school. Not when Jarvis’ hair turned grey faster than it had any right to, because even if she’d taken to treating it like a cold, there was always an underlying tension hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles, whenever she started coughing.

No. Even if the press loved comparing him to his father, Tony would never be like him.

Ever.  
  
If anything, he took more after his mom, and even then Tony’d privately sworn that, if the situation ever arose, where he fell in love and it wasn’t returned, he’d… _deal_ with it. Because if love could bring one of the strongest people he knew to her knees? No way was he going to let that happen to him. Never.

He’d guard his heart, make Fort Knox jealous of its security, to make sure that never happened to him. His family was more than enough, his love for his mom and Jarvis and Aunt Peggy made his heart feel full, he didn’t need romantic love too. Not when the risk outweighed the benefits.

If that ever happened to him, he’d… _deal_ with it.

 

* * *

 

James Rhodes was at a college party, and sorely regretting it.

Geez. This was what he got for being dragged to a shindig his roommate wanted to check out.

The music was bad, his roommate had ditched him, almost everyone was drunk, and one girl was—oh, fuck, one girl was crying. But before he could move towards her in concern, he saw a tiny figure do the same—and that was the last straw, too, because there was no way that kid wasn’t a minor. [ _How’d he even get in, anyway?_ ]

But he made his way to the duo anyway, to try to help. However, it soon became obvious the kid [ _wasn’t he supposed to be some sort of genius?_ ] had things well in hand, in more ways than one. And that the situation was well out of his depth, as well, because before James could reach her, she started retching, and the kid barely managed to snatch up an empty garbage bin and pressed it towards her before she started puking.

And that…gross as it may have sounded, James had been expecting it to be the regular fare that happened when one drank too much, had been braced for the reek of vomit. He had **_not_** been expecting the flowers, at all.

Or the grim face the kid helping her had, once he’d seen the pale yellow petals.

[ _Primrose: I can’t live without you_ ]

 

It was plain to see this wasn’t the kid’s first round with the Hanahaki disease; which was a bit of a relief, seeing as how James had never seen it in real life and he had no idea as to how to help…even if was also slightly unnerving, seeing the youngest person in the room handling it with a very clearly practiced ease, coaching the girl to control her breathing with a calm voice and not batting an eye at the blood on her hands.

 

It’s not until afterwards that he gets the kid’s name. After searching for in vain for something to make tea in, because the kid had suggested it even as he’d kept sharp eyes on the girl’s ragged breathing, after they’d left the party because everyone else was too drunk to help, after.

Tony Stark. Huh.

“How’d you even _get in?_ ” James found himself asking incredulously, because…well, he’d known the kid was probably a minor, but there was ‘freshman who’s got buddies’ and then there was ‘tiny fifteen-year-old alone at a party’ and that was alarming on a number of levels.

The kid, however, only smirked as he retorted, “I have my sources,” and if James hadn’t seen the way he’d talked soothingly to the girl, he would have thought it was genuine—speaking of which.

“And how’d know how to help?” Because there was ‘passing knowledge of first aid’ and then there was ‘here’s some breathing tips to make sure there’s no choking’, and James had not expected to hear the latter from the youngest person in the room. _Especially_ given it was such a rare disease.

Tony’s face, however, immediately went blank at the question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied stiffly, and there was very clearly a train wreck in his past if that was his knee-jerk reaction to the Hanahaki disease. [ _Hmm._ ]

Still, it’d be rude to push him on the matter, after having worked together, so James changed the subject.

“Still, kid—“

“I’m not a kid!” Tony sputtered indignantly, but James continued relentlessly.

“—you shouldn’t be sneaking into parties, that’s just common sense. And this one’s not even a good one, either.”

“Then why were you there?” Tony countered, and James felt a moment at chagrin.

“Roommate dragged me to it, and I’m not sure if they ditched me or vice versa, after…” He gestured vaguely, and Tony nodded in understanding.

“Oh, by the way, didn’t catch your name.”

“James Rhodes, ROTC.”

 

  
He sees Tony around campus more often, after that.

It helps that apparently they’re taking some classes together, even if he hadn’t really noticed before, and the more he drifts apart from his roommate the more he finds himself hanging out with Tony, talking shop and commiserating about professors who love the sound of their voice and just nerding out in general.

Somehow, James finds himself taking him under his wing—or is it the other way around, and Tony grew on him instead?

 

* * *

 

Tony knew he worried Rhodey slightly, what with his extreme aversion to anything that vaguely smacked of relationships, but…well. He wasn’t interested, simple as that.

His family was slightly concerned about it, actually, but…Tony just couldn’t see it. He was fifteen, sixteen, and had yet to figure out just what the hell constituted a crush, because sure, girls were pretty and guys were also attractive, but…how the fuck did that translate? Like, how?

Lori—the girl he’d met the same night he’d met Rhodey, the girl who’d found out her boyfriend had been cheating on her and nearly choked to death that same night—was just a friend, despite what the rumors said. Sure, she was apparently also an aspiring model, but…just, **_why_** was everyone so obsessed with his sex life?!

And that was just the start of it, too, because he’d just been checking up on her to make sure she was doing okay, afterwards, and yet some paparazzo had somehow managed to turn it into some sordid affair. Something about how she’d ditched her boyfriend for him after a one-night stand, or something.

Well. At least it made good practice, even if Rhodey had been confused and more than slightly disgusted with how fast everyone else had latched onto the idea. Lori at least had been willing to play along, and all in all Tony’d say it turned out okay, all things considered.

Sure, he’d had to deal with an angry ex-boyfriend who somehow blamed _him_ for it all, and okay, maybe in retrospect he shouldn’t have been so fast to suggest the surgery to get rid of the disease, but still. Everyone was okay, and apparently Tony was getting a reputation across campus, so he’d take it, and Howard’s disapproval was barely a blip on his radar whenever it came up.

Because sure, the man was home more often _now,_ but nothing he did erased the memories of Maria’s quiet, dry coughing late at night in the mansion, or Jarvis’ worried looks, or the scent of chamomile as yet another kettle of tea was made to soothe sore throats. Tony just…couldn’t. 

Couldn’t forgive his father, for that. His mom was more than happy, when Howard stopped going on the Arctic expeditions as much, **_finally_** started spending more time at home—and Tony was happy for her, he _really_ was—but he couldn’t forgive Howard for that. He’d stopped giving a crap about his approval, by the time he’d hit puberty, because of it, and like hell he was going to start _now._

If anything, the man’s disapproval helped egg him on, and he got a vicious sort of glee whenever he imagined Howard’s face at whatever headline the tabloids had gone with.

Sure, it probably wasn’t the best of life choices he could’ve gone with, but where’s the fun in that? Even if he wasn’t interested, even if he thought parties were about as fun as a caffeine-fueled engineering binge with the right people, well…turns out spite was an excellent motivator.

 

  
The next party he goes to is a lot nicer than the one he’d snuck into, that first time, but somehow, he still ends up walking one of the girls back to her dorm after she had a few too many drinks. Well, not just him, he enlists the help of her roommate as well, but the rumor mill still has a field day with it anyway. [ _Something about a threesome, was it?_ ]

Time goes on, and it happens again, and again—Tony goes to parties, and inevitably walks out with a pretty girl on his arm. The guys are jealous, sometimes, but Tony doesn’t know how to say “I’m sorry nobody taught you how to respect women” without starting a fight [ _he should know, he’s tried_ ], so he just flashes a smile, and pretends he knows what he’s doing, instead of somehow having managed to friendzone what feels like every single sorority on campus.

The rumors are making him out to be some sort of sex god or something, but… he just…can’t see the appeal? Because as he gets older, and starts experimenting more, he can’t help but feel that sex is overrated. [ _Maybe he’s just a late bloomer?_ ] Even if the rumors only grow, and exponentially at that, and he has probably a little too much fun in egging them on, because the media loves a show and Howard’s face whenever it came up was more than worth the effort.

In private, of course, it’s another story.

His defenses are ironclad, and he’s more than happy with having his family at hand, no need for a significant other. But sometimes, the matter comes up every so often, and he can’t help but ask his mom and Rhodey and Jarvis and Aunt Peggy about it, because it’s getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. He’s sixteen, seventeen, and sex is still _way_ overrated, and how was his smiling at one of his classmates supposed to be indicative of an epic romance the way that one tabloid was implying?!

Still. Nobody was coughing up flowers, so Tony was willing to call it a success. So far, so good.

 

…and then the accident happened, and it was all a moot point anyway because if pretending he was the second coming of Howard was what it took to secure his company’s holdings and prevent layoffs, then he’d give the world the show they wanted.

Even if he hated every second of it, because he did _not_ want to be Howard 2.0, no way no how, and even if his father’d apparently been quite the heartbreaker back in the day, Tony still felt nauseous the first time he’d heard the rumors of one of his model friends ‘seen coughing up roses’—because even if he knew it was bullshit, it still hit **_far_** too close to home.

Between that, actually running the company, and losing Jarvis, Tony’s got a lot on his hands.

 

  
Time passes, and he starts to get used to it.

Starts to heal, slowly, from losing so much of his tiny patchwork family at once, starts really making a name for himself in the world. He’s not proud of being the Merchant of Death, but…it’s something. [ _Better than “Howard Stark’s son”, at least._ ] A good distraction, at least, because if he’s getting asked about his latest innovation or the latest charity he’s made in honor of his family, he’s less likely to be asked about his [ ~~ _nonexistent_~~ ] love life, and he’ll take what he can get.

Time passes, and Pepper and Happy are unexpected additions to his family, but he’s not complaining. At all. Even if he’s not seeing all of them as often, these days, because he’s so busy running the company with Obie that he can’t always find the time to do more than the occasional phone call with Aunt Peggy, his heart’s still fit to burst with how much he cares for them.

For the way Obie watched his back in the corporate sector, for Aunt Peggy’s rare but warm hugs, for Pepper’s quiet competence—and the way they all accepted him the way he was.

It’s Happy, who helps him find a word for something he’d had a hard time quantifying his entire life, and even if he’d never heard the word “asexual” before, outside of biology, Tony’s ecstatic. It doesn’t change anything in public—he’s still got a laundry list of models on speed-dial, and vice versa, because of their mutually beneficial arrangement—but in private?

It’s a lifesaver. Once Tony has the time to do further research on his own, more and more stuff comes up, and even if it’s still not a very common term, that it exists at all is a relief because it means he’s not alone, means he’s not broken the way he'd started to privately worry, because everything he's seeing in media's telling him he's not normal. That his lack of a libido is something to worry about, wrapping it up as a medical concern even if Tony _knows_ there's nothing wrong with him, but it's not until Happy shows him the relevant article that he breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

And his family _accepts_ him—Aunt Peggy’d just given him a hug, after he’d brought it up, and Obie’d given him a pat on the shoulder and said something about “keeping appearances up in public” and acts like it’s not a big deal, and it’s just…Tony has no words for it. He’d like to think his mom and Jarvis would’ve been as accepting, had they still been alive.

Sure, there’s always the suspicion that it might have something to do with his ironclad defenses, and Obie _had_ mentioned something about being a late bloomer, but…either way, Tony didn’t mind. He wasn’t interested in romantic love, anything beyond that didn’t matter.

 

Things were great, things were going just fine.

 

* * *

  
  
Virginia “Pepper” Potts first clues into Tony’s extreme aversion to Hanahaki disease during an interview. Specifically, when the subject of the Maria Stark Foundation comes up, less than a year into her job.

 

“If you don’t mind my asking, why is there an entire wing dedicated to funding the surgical removal of Hanahaki disease?” The interviewer asks.

“Well, not everyone’s as lucky as my parents,” Tony replies, and only she and Happy pick up on the irony in his voice.

 

That was her first clue, but she had thought the dry bitterness in his voice had been aimed at Howard Stark—after all, in the company it was widely known their relationship hadn’t been the best.

But as time went on, more clues kept cropping up.

The steady stream of models that were on very, very good terms with her boss, and his reputation for one-night-stands, was another hint, as was the list of surgeons JARVIS had at hand. His subtle avoidance for media romanticizing Hanahaki disease was only something she picked up on as time went by. The disdain he had, whenever it came up in the tabloids, that went far beyond normal ‘playboy who doesn’t settle down’ territory.

  
Then, Happy brought up the asexual thing, and they couldn’t help share a glance after seeing the relief on Tony’s face, when he found out Hanahaki disease would most likely never affect him.

Yep. There was most definitely a story in there. Probably a train wreck, at that.

…either way, she’d be there for him. He considered her family, even after she’d seen just how ironclad his defenses were, there was no way she wasn’t returning the favor.

 

* * *

 

Time passed, and Tony was content.

Yes, Tony’s patchwork family was tiny, a side-effect of his heart being so guarded only a handful of people could get past. But that was a trade-off he was more than willing to deal with, even if he had to occasionally listen to Obie’s talks of him finding someone, something about him not ending up alone. Still.

His heart’s safe, and he intends to keep it that way, because even if the media tends to glorify the image of a lover wasting away before having their love returned, Tony **_refuses_** to take part in that narrative. No, far better to focus on being the Merchant of Death, or literally _anything else at all._ Romantic love was more of a hassle than he needed in his life.

He’s never needed to call a surgeon, after all, so even if Pepper’s glances and Rhodey’s concern can be touching, he doesn’t plan on changing a thing; it’s not like he needs a significant other to have a rich and fulfilling life. [ ~~ _Asexual hypothesis holding up so far._~~ ]

Things were great, things were going just fine.  
 

 

 

The first crack in Tony’s ironclad defenses was Yinsen. Specifically, his pity. 

 

“You have everything, yet nothing.” 

Explaining that no, actually, he’d _chosen_ this, had led to ** _even more_** pity, and turns out that a) talking about his parents was still incredibly hard to do, and b) no, it wasn’t just him, Howard truly _had_ been a shitty husband for his wife to have had to put up with that. [ _Good to know._ ]

Even if the pity only manifested more by the day, and Tony _hated_ it. What, like he needed a significant other? His family was just fine!

“Hey, I’m already a few minutes away from a broken heart, can you really blame me for protecting it as much as I have?”

“…no, I suppose I do not. Not anymore, at any rate. You’ll need to be careful: the arc reactor is already putting strain on your body, I’m not sure how surgery would—”

“Don’t worry, won’t happen. I’ve gone my entire life with no problem so far, haven’t I?”

Then, of course, Raza and his men had burst in, and they’d had far more immediate concerns.

 

  
After that, though, things changed.

Being Iron Man took up so much of his time, and he did his best to shore up his defenses more than ever before after _~~Obie—~~ no, **Stane,**_ had proved that he hadn’t been guarded enough. And as if that wasn’t enough, turns out he was being poisoned by the same thing keeping him alive. 

His heart was slowly killing him, literally. [ ~~ _Was poison running through his veins really so different to drowning in the scent of flowers?_~~ ] 

…the irony of his father’s help in creating a new element, and thus saving his life, is not lost on Tony. Fortunately, with how hectic things’ve been, he’s got plenty to do to distract him from it. [ _Temporarily, at least._ ]

Things are good, things are great. [ _His heart’s still his weakness, but that wasn’t anything new, now, was it?_ ]

 

 

The Avengers assemble, New York’s saved, and somehow this motley crew worms past his ironclad defenses in the span of…what, hours? Days? 

Part of Tony’s vaguely alarmed by it, actually, because those same defenses had kept the world at bay for _decades—_ and yet these six people had somehow managed to get through.

  
…somehow, it felt just as natural as when he’d met the rest of his tiny patchwork family. [ _Strange, that._ ]

  
Pepper and Rhodey are happy, for him, because even if they hadn’t talked about it for a while Tony knows they’re worried about him. About his being alone, because he hadn’t exactly been in a good place after Obi— _Stane._ So the influx of people who’d somehow gotten past his defenses is very welcome, and between meetings and whenever she’s in town, Pepper always has a smile for the team. Rhodey, too, and really it wasn’t _Tony’s_ fault the team’d clicked and moved in so easily, **_okay?_**

 

Natasha, he’d known before, and as time goes by they commiserate over masks and defenses. She’d been the only one unsurprised by how easily he’d played the room no matter where they were or what the team was doing, and more than once they’d trolled the rest of the team by chatting in Italian, just for kicks.

Bruce was his brother in all but blood when it came to science, enough said. The Hulk also had a special place in his heart, and Tony didn’t worry about either of them breaking it. 

Clint and Thor had been more of a surprise, but turns out bonding over family issues was a thing so even if Tony still had issues talking about his track record with the Hanahaki disease, it’d been so, _very_ easy to sympathize with Thor’s laments over betrayal. Clint had been quieter, but splitting a drink over asshole dads was a thing they did and there were always experimental arrows available for the _really_ bad days, so it worked out. 

…and then there was Steve. 

For the record, that’d caught Tony off-guard as much as it did everyone else. Even ignoring the Howard Issue, Tony hadn’t expected to get along with him nearly as much as he had, because…really, what was there to it?

An All-American soldier from the ‘40s, all wholesomeness and patriotism and whatever crap it was that he’d managed to pick up from Howard’s never-ending talks about Captain America, would never get along with _him,_ right? Tony Stark, former CEO to one of the biggest weapon companies in the country, former Merchant of Death, playboy with a model on each arm and a smile for the cameras…well, there was no way that wouldn’t have ended in disaster, right?

Tony’d been as surprised as the rest of the team, when Steve’d accepted his invitation to move in, is what he’s saying. And the surprises didn’t stop there, either. Turns out that given the chance, and internet access [ _and with some help from JARVIS, probably, the traito_ r], the man wasn’t half bad. 

Once he’d seen Tony clam up when Howard had been mentioned once, he’d never brought him up again, and the more time went on and the more he relaxed and got used to his surroundings and next thing Tony knew, they were actually _…getting along._

No, Tony hadn’t believed it either. The first time Steve’d cracked a joke, Tony had nearly choked on his coffee, pinched himself, and turned to Natasha. She, in turn, had only quirked an eyebrow at him, but that was proof that it hadn’t been a hallucination brought about by sleep deprivation and _wow._  Captain America actually had a sense of humor, who knew? And a similar taste in movies, and played along as the perfect straight man when Tony tried to make Fury’s vein throb after they found out Coulson’d survived New York, and _holy shit,_ they were actually friends. 

If it’d stayed at that, Tony would’ve been happy, because things were going great, were better than ever.

 

  
Tony had blamed the itch at the back of his throat as the cold, at first. Wasn’t his fault, it’d been that time of year when just about everyone had been sneezing, and thanks to the arc reactor his immune system was shot so he’d just made a note to eat more oranges and carried on.

But a week later, the itch wasn’t gone. 

Strange, but again, his immune system was iffy, so…that was probably it. Right. Just a cold. 

A week after _that,_ though, he’s in the lab working on the latest armor and it’s late at night when the coughing fit hits. Tony’s so, very glad he’s alone for it, save for JARVIS and the robots, because he’s not sure how he would’ve handled someone else seeing his reaction otherwise. Coughing in and of itself is painful, now, thanks to the arc reactor, after all, but the burning in his chest had been secondary to how he’d felt seeing the spray of tiny blue petals on his handkerchief. 

[ _Iris: your friendship means so much to me_ ]

 

* * *

 

The only silver lining to this mess was that it was early enough that the team, even Natasha, didn’t know just how deep his masks went. Otherwise hiding… ** _it_ ** would have been a lot harder. 

He’s having a hard time as is, no need for these people to have to suffer with him, after all. Even if Tony’s not sure just how the hell it’d even happened, because _what the **fuck,**_ universe?! He’d gone _decades_ with his guard up, heart protected in a way that rivaled Fort Knox, had never once gotten an itch in his throat after trying his hand at dating, and yet it’s this that gets him?! He’d never been goddamn _attracted_ to anyone **_that_** way, before, for fuck’s sake!

It wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair, and Tony didn’t know what to do, because this was everything he’d hoped to avoid, and yet—well. 

Fuck. 

Kicker is, part of Tony didn’t even mind. Steve was his best friend on the team, and they clicked so _easily_ both on the field and off of it, between the banter and the teaming up against Natasha and Clint during prank wars and movie night, and the early morning jokes [ _yes, he’d fallen asleep, right, didn’t pull an all-nighter agai—Steve, give him back his mug!_ ] but now Tony didn’t know how much of that was friendship and how much was…his **_problem,_** and the uncertainty was almost too much now. 

Turns out the palladium mess was good practice for this; he’s slowly dying, _again,_ being killed by his heart, **_again,_ ** and no one notices.

Oh, Natasha gives him an odd glance once or twice, but Tony just fakes a wince and says something about the arc reactor giving him some trouble, and she buys it. But it’s early on enough that no one else on the team so much as suspects, because, as he’s proven before, he can put on one hell of a show even on his deathbed.

Not that he’ll die, of course; even if he… _loves_ Steve, to have gotten himself into this mess, and even if he’s self-sacrificing [ _according to Rhodey, anyway_ ], Tony knows the world needs him, and he’d sworn to never hurt his family that way. If he can’t get rid of… ** _it_** himself, well, JARVIS already has a list of surgeons at hand. 

First, though, he’d try to will it away. Less of a risk of compromising his entire friendship, that way.

And in the meantime…well, Tony’d learned a lot from his mom. 

 

 

If he just happened to be slowly pulling away from the team, just a bit, well, he hadn’t been lying when he’d mentioned that board meeting, okay? Or that gala, or how the LA branch needed some of his time, or that newest modification to the Widow’s Bites, or Clint's arrows, or…

The petals he’s coughing up now are bigger. He’s also taken to drinking chamomile more, because the itch in the back of his throat is a constant, and after the first time Bruce comments on something smelling floral, Tony laughs it off as ‘oh, looks like Gracia from Accounting’s new perfume rubbed off, oops’, and starts keeping breath mints on his person. He’s also getting tired more often, what with his lungs having to put up not only with the arc reactor but also… ** _it._**

His family, of course, knew him well enough to read between the lines, as time went on. Pepper’s concern had been growing since the first time he’d started to pull away from the team, and the first time Rhodey’d seen him since… ** _it_** had started, Tony didn’t have the heart to keep it from them. 

…well, more like he’d had an unavoidable coughing fit when it was just the three of them and JARVIS, but _semantics._

The looks of horror when the shower of petals had spilled out had nearly been more than he could bear, but he hadn’t been able to resist at least trying to break the tension.

“Hey, guys. Remember how I thought I wasn’t straight, because I’d never had a crush? How we all thought I was aro? Well…turns out I’m demi.”

After the initial freak out, they’d done their best to help. Pepper’s covering for him, when he needs to duck out of sight for a while, and Rhodey’s got his back and Tony _hates_ what he’s doing to them. Hates the stress he’s seeing in Pepper’s face and the feigned casualness in Rhodey’s voice, and his stupid, traitorous heart.

It continues in this vein for another few weeks, when one morning Tony wakes up with iris stems scratching his throat on the way out, and part of him feels cold at the realization that he’s approaching the last stages of… ** _it._**

JARVIS is sounding the most concerned Tony’s ever heard him, and— _nope,_ he’d **_sworn_** to never hurt his family like that. [ _Looks like it’s time for something drastic_.]

“J, call that surgeon, will you?”

 

* * *

 

Pepper had been urging him to talk to Steve since she’d first found out. Turns out it’s a requirement for the operation, urging him to do so at least one last time before eliminating the opportunity for good. Especially since the surgery might be riskier than expected, simply because the arc reactor’s going to throw a wrench into things when planning the procedure. 

Normally, Tony wouldn’t.

 

 

In any other life, he’d would’ve been content to swallow his feelings and pretend he wasn’t in love, would’ve enjoyed things as they were.

In this life, however…well, it wasn’t like he had any other choice, now, did he?

 

 

Still, it takes time, for him to muster up the resolve to talk to Steve. 

Right up until he actually goes to see him, late at night in the gym, looking morose and heartbroken in a way that caught Tony off-guard, because he hadn’t seen that particular face in _months._

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve didn’t notice him, however, until after he’s nearly broken his latest punching bag. 

“Oh, sorry, Tony. Didn’t see you there.”

“Hey, I wanted to talk, but are you okay? You’re kind of…”

Steve didn’t look at him. “Anniversary’s coming up.”

All of a sudden, it hits. Tony’d been so caught up in his own issues, he’d nearly forgotten. Right. Bucky’s fall and Steve’s crashing in the Arctic, that was coming up—he’d made a note of it, a while back, actually, and… ** _oh._**

Oh, okay. 

“Want me to schedule something? A visit to Arlington, anything?”

But Steve only shook his head. “No, I can…it’ll pass.”

“No, seriously, if you need anything, just ask.”

“Don’t—I’ll…be okay. Just…what was it you wanted to talk about, Tony?”

“Oh, nothing that can’t wait. Nothing big. Just a heads up, I’ll be out of town again, another board meeting.”

 

* * *

 

The surgery happened three days later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Howard didn't cheat on Maria, it's just that their marriage was breaking down and she was the one most invested in it, thus resulting in her getting the backlash.
> 
> Tony's actually demi, but at the time [it was the early '90s, in-story] asexuality was barely starting to enter public awareness, so it's not until later that he's aware of the spectrum that it entails. Doesn't help that his defenses keep most people at bay [thus preventing him from cluing in earlier].
> 
> Here, the Hanahaki disease's got an extra dose of irony via the flower meanings, which I got from [this](http://thelanguageofflowers.com) website.
> 
> This fic's only going to be two chapters, I _mean_ it this time!
> 
> Also, note the 'angst with a happy ending tag? There's a reason for it. Honest.


	2. Consider This, The Slip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter-specific warnings:** same as before [minor body horror and unrequited love related to Hanahaki disease tropes, angst, minor profanity], plus discussion of symptoms of an eating disorder [suspected only, not actually a thing], some miscommunication, and feat. a demiromantic Tony with the self-confidence of a toothpick. If there's anything I missed, please let me know.
> 
>  
> 
> Also featuring Natasha as the MVP, and supportive Avengers, though, so...there's that?

The procedure was fairly straightforward and went through without any major complications, despite the lead surgeon’s original concerns about the arc reactor.

Afterwards, Tony felt nothing but relief.

…and what was quite possibly the most acute case of embarrassment in his _life,_ because seriously? He’d had that bad of a crush on a teammate? On _**Captain America,**_ of all people? Good thing nobody’d talk, because...wow. Talk about awkward. So, very, awkward, Tony couldn’t even.

Pepper sometimes shoots him strange looks, now. Rhodey, too. Slightly pitying, even if he’d thought that had stopped years ago, and wow his traitorous heart was still screwing him over in the worst ways, wasn’t it? [ _Like the palladium hadn’t been enough._ ]

On the plus side, it seemed like removing... ** _it_** hadn’t affected his friendship with Steve as much as he’d feared. Oh, sure, there was some new awkwardness and misunderstandings, and the team eyed him oddly at times, but nowhere near the complete unraveling of a relationship like Tony had originally [ ~~ _irrationally_~~ ] feared.

Nice.

The team’s really meshing now, and getting going. Now that Tony doesn’t need to worry about his heart killing him again it’s so, very easy to start to ease back in, and lower his guard again, because these people have already gotten past it already and what was the harm, now?

So he starts upping the chatter again, starts sticking around more. Starts slowly easing off the “board meetings” because he didn’t want the embarrassment of the team finding out of his stupid crush, even if he’d had it taken care of. Or, worse, their pity, and Steve had enough on his plate without learning of something that was in the past, and at this point it’d be _super_ awkward to say ‘hey, so you’re my best friend but I was in love with you for a while’, so _nope._ Besides.

Things are great, better than ever, even.

 

  
Tony starts spending more time with the team, again, he’s happy things are getting back to normal. The team’s _really_ part of his family now, and they’re learning about each other in bits and pieces: Natasha can see through more of his masks than he should probably be comfortable with, and vice versa, Bruce’s...Bruce, enough said, and Clint’s turning out to nerd out over physics more than expected and is in the running for being the one to make Fury snap if Tony doesn’t get there first. Thor’s Allspeak means he’s a welcome face at whatever restaurant he visits, and that’s the story behind why the Avengers are now regulars at that tiny hole-in-the-wall Korean place, among others.

Part of Tony's slightly alarmed at just how much they’re learning about him, actually, but...well, they’re family. Families know about the worst of each other, don't they?

The way Steve’ll go through punching bags like tissue paper, if he’s having a bad night, whereas Tony’ll quietly migrate to the kitchen for a cup of coffee because there was no sleeping once the nightmares started, and more than once he’d ended up quietly sharing a mug with Natasha because there wasn’t much else better to do at three in the morning other than commiserate about hard choices and lesser evils—but not everything’s so serious.

Because as it turns out, Natasha’s abysmal with kids, but Clint’s good enough for the both of them. Thor’s actually a secret troll because he _totally_ knew what he was saying to that reporter, don’t even lie, rivaled only by Steve—and hadn’t that been a surprise?

Meanwhile, Bruce and Tony both have a nonexistent sense of self-preservation in the face of science and someone should check up on them during the 36-hour-mark just in case. Tony still disagreed, but the team’d made it a Rule, after they’d gotten it into their heads to make Hulk-resistant shorts, because that particular incident had culminated in Tony wielding a flamethrower at two in the morning, with Bruce taking disturbingly avid notes the entire time. [ _Still. Worth it._ ]

Movie nights start to become a thing, and they learn about each other even more: Tony’d helped kick-start them under the guise of catching Steve up on modern cinema, but it quickly becomes a team thing as well.

Thor turns out to have a fondness for period dramas, whereas Natasha has a long, _long_ list of horror movie recommendations that only got added onto by Clint and his love of B-movies, much to the chagrin of everyone on the team. Meanwhile, Tony and Bruce have a blast with sci-fi, even if Tony felt professionally offended when it turned out that Bruce enjoyed the prequels-that-definitely-didn’t-exist, and the list just went on.

It was…a unique experience, to say the least. The spy duo commandeered a couch, Bruce got his own armchair, and there was never enough popcorn because Clint kept stealing it all, and Tony sometimes got a gleam in his eyes that meant Steve had to practically sit on him before he ran off to the workshop because he had an _idea—_ and sure, it’d been strange, at first.

But it was _so_ worth it. Seeing Clint and Natasha get super snarky during James Bond marathons, his own rants whenever anything that smacked of sci-fi came up, Bruce’s sighs during the same, Thor’s curiosity and the way Steve got when the rest of the team was relaxed and in their element—just. He didn’t have words for it, other than his heart felt full, in those moments. Sure, sometimes, [ ~~ _rarely,_~~ ] he got a phantom itch in the back of his throat, but that was _obviously_ psychosomatic, so no big.

Tony wasn’t used to having a family as large as it was now, and readjusting his routine had been kind of weird, at first, but he had absolutely no complaints. Pepper and Rhodey had been pleasantly surprised to hear he now had something approaching a sane sleeping schedule, so. [ _Bonus._ ]

He loves every second of it. Enjoys the banter, and the food Thor introduces them to. Has fun with the prank wars the occasionally crop up, and needling Fury with Clint. Sharing coffee with Natasha, and going to baseball games with Steve when the rest of the team’s busy.

Things are great, better than ever before.

 

 

It’s another baseball game, when the phantom itch returns. Steve’s luck acts up and he ends up catching the foul ball with his bare hands, and ends up needing to borrow Tony’s pen because they’d been trying to be incognito before the cameras picked up on Iron Man and Captain America being in attendance and a _lot_ of people wanted his autograph.

It’s a good game, a fun time all around—the sun is shining, weather’s great for going to Central Park afterwards, and this time it’s Tony cracking a joke that has Steve doubling over laughing, before looking over at him with that smile. Tony’s not sure why part of his chest tenses up, just a little, but shrugs it off as the arc reactor acting up again, and continues bantering.

It was a great day, all around.

Tony’s getting ready for movie night when the coughing fit hits.

This time, when he removes his handkerchief, part of him is almost unsurprised to see the small yellow petals dotting its surface. Almost.

[ _Yellow Tulip: there’s sunshine in your smile_ ]

 

'Almost' doesn't cover the rush of ice he felt, though. 

“That...can’t be right. J, are you seeing this? That can’t—that’s impossible!”

“Searching every database accessible for supplementary data.” JARVIS said, and if Tony had known him even a little less he would’ve missed the way his tone was a hair away from frantic as he went on. “Sir, this is unprecedented.”

“ _ **How?!**_ I thought—J, make an appointment with that surgeon’s team, see if we can clear this up. Let Pepper and Rhodey know, too, this is…”

“Consider it done—Sir, the team is expressing the concern that you will be late for the viewing of the film selected. It appears Mr. Barton has won the coin toss, and Jurassic Park will be playing in five minutes.”

Tony leaned back, and bit his lip.

He’d made a point of going to movie night unless he was in the hospital, or on one of the board meetings he’d genuinely needed to attend, so they’d _know_ something was off if he skipped...then again, Hanahaki disease. [ ~~ _Fuck._~~ ] He was probably off-kilter enough that Natasha would see right through him right now.

“Tell them something came up. Emergency thing that needs me stat, maybe an experiment in R&D went wrong or corporate espionage or something, I don’t care. Say I’m sorry, but can’t make it.” He said, and made his way to the roof.

He _needed_ to get out. Didn’t matter where, just...away. Until he was able to figure out just what chinks he had in his armor, at least.

 

 

A few hours, an emergency consultation and several x-rays and ultrasound readings later, turns out it’s the arc reactor that’s at the root at all this mess. Literally. [ ~~ _Isn’t it always?_~~ ] 

The head surgeon had been mystified when she'd heard about who the bloom was for, because as it turns out, J's right. This is a first. Great. Fortunately, there's more than enough NDAs to go around, and he knew Cho well enough to not worry about her clinic leaking anything. It's why she was the first on his list for this sort of thing, after all. Even if the sympathy in her eyes, at the discovery that he was dealing with another round, was almost more than he could bear.

 

 

“—so the doctors think the... ** _it,_** you know,” he gestured vaguely at his chest while talking to a very pale Pepper and Rhodey on camera from the safety of his nigh-abandoned family mansion, “probably has some roots wrapped around the arc reactor somehow. They can’t get rid of every last bit the way the procedure normally does.”

“So it’s happening again? You’re going to have to go through it, _again?_ ” Pepper asked, and Tony winced at her tone.

“I’ve already asked about the odds of it resurging. They’re saying that apart from this being unprecedented, my best bet’s trying to move on, and if not...well, it’s not like I can’t I can afford the surgeries.” As long as his body held up to the strain, he didn’t say. [ ~~ _He didn’t need to._~~ ]

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tones, I—this is—”

“Literally everything I was trying to avoid? Yes, I know, honeybunch.”

“We’d thought you were safe! That the team had your back, that even if you weren't interested in finding someone you’d be okay and happy. But _this?_ ”

Tony couldn’t help the wry quirk of his smile. “I know the odds of my moving on aren’t great, but I'm working on it. And the surgery’s already scheduled, just in case. You’re not losing me that way, you two. My heart can’t hate me _that_ much, can it?”

 

* * *

 

Tony returns to the tower soon afterwards, and proceeds to alarm the team over the span of the next few months. Well—not the entire team, and it varied, but still: this time, the resident chatterbox’s slowly withdrawing into himself was not missed by anyone.

He’s had plenty of practice, by now, hiding it. Hiding the fact that something was wrong, on a fundamental level, hiding the way breathing was sometimes a struggle between the arc reactor and the flowers that he was biting back, hiding the way he was dying by inches. But now, even when he puts up his masks, the team _notices._

What’s more, since they know him more now, even if they can’t see past his mask they can see just how far it went, and it _scares_ them.

Tony’s quieter, now [ ~~ _trying to avoid choking on petals_~~ ], when Clint pops in every so often to ask if he was okay.

He’s eating less and drinking more tea [ ~~ _fighting back nausea from the cloying scent of tulips on his tongue_~~ ], when Bruce quietly pats him on the shoulder and said, “if you ever need help just let me know. The Other Guy, too”, before giving him space, and even if Thor wasn’t always around, he’d still found the time to give Tony a hearty thump on the shoulder and expressed his support as well.

Steve, meanwhile, is around more often, dropping in with takeout and coffee if it was early enough, urging him to eat and giving him looks of concern when he thought Tony didn’t notice. [ _The pang of guilt hurts nearly as much as the coughing fit afterwards._ ]

 

But it’s only Natasha who figures it out.

 

“Who?” Is all she asks, as she quietly offers him the mug of chamomile after he suppresses the violent itch in his throat because no way was he coughing in public if he could help it, nope [ ~~ _no way he was alarming his family more than he already was_~~ ]. 

Tony looks at her, registers the feigned casualness even as she's holding the same type of tea he only ever drinks when he’s alone because he’s trying to be discreet about this entire mess, and in that moment, he knows there's no point in deflecting. Finally, he pastes on a smile as they both enter his lab.

“Does it really matter? Won’t be a problem soon.”

“Because you’re telling them, because you’re getting it out, or…”

“The surgery’s scheduled for this Thursday.” Tony answers after a heavy pause, and the flicker of _something_ in her gaze really shouldn’t have put him on edge the way it was. But he forged onwards, because this was Natasha, sister in all but blood, who was in the same boat as he was since he’d refined the art of masks to the point where not even he knew just where it ended and he began. “How’d you figure it out, anyway?”

“You have this habit of using a handkerchief when you cough, and it’s stained yellow. Now, you’ve been using mouthwash and breath mints, and sometimes you forget to eat, but I don’t think you’re bulimic, since the former are new and you only ever forget to eat during an engineering binge, and even then you usually have something to snack on. Conclusion? It’s from something else.”

Then, she leaned in, took him by the shoulders, and looked him in the eye unyieldingly, as the worry in her voice grew. “It’s Steve, isn’t it.”

Tony was glad it was just the two of them, then. He’d been caught off-guard enough that his mask was jarred, and he hadn’t thought it was possible for a human throat to make the noise Natasha did when she saw the answer in his eyes.

“Tony, you _need_ to tell him!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Tony, you’re worrying _everyone,_ Thor thinks it’s depression even if he doesn’t say it, Bruce can help, and Steve—”

“No! This is my problem, and I’m _dealing_ with it. Steve’s got enough on his plate, he doesn’t need do know.”

“Tony, you’re going in for something you’re never going to be able to undo—”

“Actually, no.” Tony couldn’t help but cut in with a sudden, bitter smile. “Arc reactor. Damn thing’s roots somehow tangled in with it, as far as I can tell. It’ll only grow back if I can’t get over it, which apparently I _can’t_ because I’m some sort of broken mess who can’t even _love_ right, because the first time I fall for someone I can’t even fucking get over them even if it kills me—”

“Tony, you’re not broken.”

To which he was _about_ to reply, “Could’ve fooled me,” if the coughing fit hadn’t hit, and suddenly he can’t keep it in, so Natasha gets an eyeful of bloodstained yellow tulip petals as they stream out of his mouth.

Once he’s done, he doesn’t make eye contact again, just grimaces down at the mess to keep from seeing the pity in her eyes.

Even as he goes through the now-rote motions, however, cleaning it up and incinerating the evidence, Natasha moves to help. Supports him as he stumbles his way to the bathroom, gets the mouthwash out of the counter so he doesn’t have to bend down. Once he’s done, she hands him the now-lukewarm tea, and he downs it without pause, as he makes his way back to his desk.

“Thanks.”

“I still think you should tell him. But...it’s up to you in the end. Just...take care of yourself, Tony.”

And with that, patted him on the arm carefully, then made to head out, but not before giving him a significant look when Steve popped in and brightened when he saw Tony.

“Tony, are you— oh, hi, Natasha.”

“Oh, I was just on my way out. Thanks for the updates on the Bites, Tony. Steve, he’s got a board meeting coming up and a deadline to meet, so now might not be the best time to ask him about that movie.” She said with a smile, and Tony played along, easy as breathing, and tamped down on the surge of warmth and guilt that followed.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been tempted to tell Steve, either, this time, but…Aunt Peggy had come up, last time he’d tried.

Then Steve’d started talking about his meetings with her, and her niece, Sharon, and Tony hadn’t been able to get the nerve to broach the subject after hearing the wistfulness in his voice.

 

* * *

 

The procedure went as well as expected.

 

* * *

 

Tony was _so damn **mortified,**_ after the fact. _Again?!_ He’d fucking fallen for Captain America, **_again._** Great. Just great.

Especially since now it’s also Natasha who’s giving him the same damn looks as Pepper and Rhodey, and _oh man_ she knew, didn’t she? About not just his past crush, but the potential for...oh, great.

“Any tips for what I can do?” Tony found himself asking Rhodey and JARVIS, once. “Because apparently I’m not aro like I thought I was, and apparently I have a type—even if it sounds incredibly awkward to say it out loud, wow.”

Rhodey leaned back with a groan. “Not sure what to tell you, Tones. Other than meet other people, I guess? I mean, it’s not like you can control your heart.”

Tony resisted the urge to scream in frustration. Instead, he settled for a deadpan stare, tacked on a smile, and said, “ _You don’t say._ ”

“Sorry, Tones.”

“I mean...that’s just it, right? I need to meet more people? How the fuck am I supposed to do that, when. I need to like someone before—”

“Hey, don’t look at me, man, I’d be a wingman if you needed me, but…”

“I don’t swing that way, because I’m not even if the damn game apparently except for Steve, right. _ **Fuck.**_ ”

“Sir, if I may?”

“Yes, J?”

“I do believe Ms. Romanov had expressed a similar interest in assisting you. Shall I contact her?”

“Sure. The more the merrier, apparently. Either that, or misery loves company. Both work.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha had been trying to set Steve up for ages, before she’d found out about Tony’s... ** _problem,_** as he so put it. Since then, she’d backed off, but now that her help was _really_ being needed, turns out that her job was even harder than she thought.

On a number of levels, even: Tony trusted her to keep his secret even if she _burned_ to let Steve know [ ~~ _because it’d fix **everything**_~~ ], the team thought she’d simply shifted her matchmaking efforts instead of it now being a matter of life and death, and Tony’s heart just _loved_ to give her a headache, didn’t it.

 

“Sorry, Nat.” Tony apologized, after a particularly bad first-and-only date.

“What was it this time?”

“She was mean to the waitress, I couldn’t…”

“Got it.” Natasha said as she crossed yet another name off her list.

The only sliver lining she could find was that Steve’d looked slightly dismayed, as the steady stream of dates Tony went on meant that they cut into the time the two usually spent together. Even if it was cruel to Steve, at this point Natasha would take what she could get if it meant she didn’t have to worry about Tony choking to death.

Last time had been bad enough, after all.

 

However, the steady stream of dates also had some side-effects.

For instance, the team’s curiosity. After all, while at first it’d seemed like she’d merely shifted from Steve to Tony, now after the...was it nineteenth(?) date, it was clear something was different.

 

* * *

 

“You a love them and leave them type, or something?” Clint asked, after a particularly memorable encounter had Tony arriving at the tower and making a beeline for the shower to get the glitter off.

“Or something,” he called down the hall without looking back.

Later, once he’d gotten rid of as much of it as he could, Tony explained. “That ‘or something?’ I’m demiromantic.”

“...and that means what to me?” Clint asked, blinking and leaning against the countertop.

“Means he’s giving me a hard time finding him a significant other, what with his not liking someone if he doesn’t click with them first.” Natasha cut in, bumping a shoulder against both of them.

“Wait, that’s a thing?”

“Yes,” Natasha replied with a sweet smile that fooled absolutely no one in the room, “it is. And it is a headache for me.”

“Hey, you’re the one that volunteered for this mission.” Tony defended.

“And I’ll _do_ it, it’s just even harder than I thought. You turned down Monica for her...what was it, again?”

“Other way around, and because she’s vegan and the very first thing I had coming back from Afghanistan was a hamburger, sorry, Nat, but there was _no way_ we were going to click. Non-negotiable, there. The glitter came from her roommate, by the way.” Tony said, and tried not to feel embarrassed when she just pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“...always something.” She muttered darkly, and pulled out her list yet again to make another note.

Steve, who’d walked in partway through, couldn’t help but cut in, then.

“But why are you even trying to date so much in the first place? If you’re...”

Tony panicked—didn’t look at Natasha, just said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Lost a bet.”

“Really.” Steve’s disbelief was audible.

“Really, Cap, have you _seen_ this woman drink vodka?” Tony gestured, and mentally gave a sigh of relief when he bought it.

 

* * *

 

 

Things were good, things were great.

The dates were getting annoying, though, especially as time went on and still there was something that rubbed him wrong with each one. Annoying, but necessary, since he didn’t want to ruin one of the best friendships in his life, and/or get frequent flier miles at the surgeon.

...unfortunately, it seemed like life had it out for him.

The problem, ironically enough, is that they simply made _that_ good a team. Tony trusted Steve to have his back, and vice versa, and the banter on the comms made up some of the highlights of his day [ _Fury’s Vein: 0, Clint and Tony: 1_ ]. The team-building exercises they go through are practically redundant, and by now most of the villains know better than to think that hurting one of them won’t result in the rest of the Avengers’ raining _hell._

Sometimes it’s like they don't even need to talk, to let the other know what they’re about to do, and more than once Steve and Tony had been compared to Clint and Natasha on the field, simply because how synchronized they could get, and the comms alternated between chatter and non-sequiturs as they pulled off stunt after stunt to save the day.

Between that, and the movie nights that Tony was able to attend [ _less than before, just in case, but like **hell** he was about to neglect his family_ ], well…it was inevitable, really.

They take down the next villain running around New York, same as ever, and debrief, same as ever, and it’s not until Tony’s in his lab fixing the dents in his armor that he feels the itch in the back of his throat. In that moment, he _knew_ what was coming, knew they were out of time.

“J, get Natasha here, stat.” He manages to get out, before the coughing fit hits, and this time isn’t even surprised when he sees the red dotting his handkerchief’s surface. Not blood [ ~~ _not yet_~~ ], but flower petals.

[ _Red Rose: I love you_ ]

 

 

In the hours and emergency conference call that followed, Pepper, Natasha, and Rhodey were all updated on the situation, and JARVIS already had the surgery booked before the end of the conversation. There were tears, and quite a bit of yelling, and when Pepper found an ally in trying to get Tony to talk to Steve about it, _even more_ yelling.

It wasn’t pretty, or fair, and his family didn’t deserve what he was putting them through, _**again,**_ and he was _so damn sorry_ for it.

He still insisted on at least trying to go on more dates, though, to see if that helped any. Long odds, but it was either that or leaving the team if this kept happening because he loved them but at this rate, the strain on his body from... ** _it_ ** would end up killing him, and that...he’d _sworn_ not to put his family through it.

It was so, _very_ hard, though.

Especially since the team knew him _even better_ now, and apparently he’d done a shit job of hiding his issues last time so they’d been keeping an eagle eye on him and the moment things started to go down a familiar path, they noticed immediately.

This time, hiding it was all but impossible.

Resisting the urge to cough was something Tony had gotten used to, but now it’s not just Natasha who’s noticing it; Clint’s codename isn’t Hawkeye for nothing, and for all of Thor’s boisterous nature, he was remarkably astute. And Tony suspected that Bruce might’ve started to clue in on it last time, actually, since even if he hadn’t said anything he’d stopped commenting about the smell of flowers, even if Tony knew just how much he’d reeked of tulips towards the end, last time.

But nobody says anything, not until the next Steve’s out on another run and Tony’s biting his tongue to keep ignoring the itch at the back of his throat.  
  
“You can let it out, you know. Steve’s the only one who hasn’t figured it out.” Clint says, leaning against the refrigerator and rolling one of the experimental arrows between his fingers. “Not sure how, to be honest. Once you mentioned the demi thing, it was easy putting together the pieces.”

 

 

The following talk, once Tony’s done spitting out rose petals, somehow attracts the rest of the team, and he suspected JARVIS had something to do with it because Bruce had mentioned a new project earlier that day and yet ‘coincidentally’ wound up in the kitchen where the rest of them were.  
Turns out that yes, the rest of the team had figured it out, individually. Fuck.

On the plus side, it meant he had more people willing to help. On the other hand, he’d done his level best to keep them from worrying, and this just undid nearly all the effort that’d gone into hiding it. Almost, because Steve, at least, hadn’t figured it out, which was something Tony was forever grateful for.

 

 

“What I don't understand is why you haven’t talked to him yet,” Bruce says once, when they’re collaborating on another project.

“He’s got enough issues without my adding to them. Last time I tried to broach the subject, he mentioned Peggy.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Nothing like bringing up the almost-ex who I also see as an aunt because she was around more than the old man was, right? Besides, it’s _**obvious**_ he doesn’t see me that way.” No, there wasn’t a trace of bitterness in there, nope, not at all.

“Does he know that gender isn’t an—”

“He was there when I brought up the demi thing, if that’s what you mean.”

“ _…huh._ ”

“Thanks for trying, though. Appreciate it.”

 

 

Tony starts quieting down again, because if he talks too much the itch in his throat gets harder to ignore.

He still goes on dates when he can, at coffeeshops and galas, but nothing helps: his... _ **problem**_ is only growing by the day, every morning Steve greets him with a mug of coffee just the way he likes it, every movie night when they’re arguing over whether they should put on Star Wars for the nth time, every time they pull off another successful mission.

 

* * *

 

What Tony doesn't know is that the worry is _eating Steve alive._

Because this is the second time now, that he’s noticed Tony pulling away. Oh, sure, Tony dresses it up as board meetings and work, but Steve knows better. This is the second time that his friend’s looking more tired, looking paler, and Steve doesn’t know what to do—he can tell the team’s hiding something but he can’t figure out what and it’s driving him up the wall.

Tony’s quieter, now, and even if he tries to hide it, Steve can tell he’s eating less, no matter what he does. He’s missing out on movie nights, too, sometimes, and where before, they’d shared a couch while watching whatever marathon it was this round, now he’s lucky if Tony so much as stays the evening with them.

Steve notices the glances, notices the pauses when the team’s talking to Tony and he's in the room sometimes, and they’re keeping something from him and normally, he’d be okay with that. But now, his best and closest friend since he got pulled out from the ice is fading in front of his eyes, and _he can’t do a thing about it._

He tries to ask around, but the team deflects everything, and every time he tries to directly confront Tony about it, the man somehow manages to distract him _every damn time,_ and...what was he doing wrong?

 

* * *

 

Tony would have been content with ignoring... ** _it_** until the day he died. Would have been content with hiding it as much as possible.

However, circumstances forced his hand.

The surgery was coming up fast, and he’d finally started to back off on the date attempts because just making it through the day was hard enough now, without putting on a show for total strangers, and Tony’s not sure if the rose thorns or the shrapnel pose a bigger threat to his health, now, because the coughing fits are a special sort of _hell._

That the team knew meant he’d been able to lower his guard, and even if he _hated_ alarming them, the stream of red petals didn’t care about where they made an appearance.

He’d lowered his guard, and it turned out to be his undoing.

 

 

Tony had been in the lab, talking with Natasha and showing off his latest modifications to her Widows’ Bites, when the latest coughing fit hit.

It’d been an especially brutal round, because it was getting closer to the end, and even if he hasn’t reached full blooms yet, rosebuds still were not fun to contend with. Natasha, godsend that she was, had immediately started rubbing circles onto his back to help the ache, helping ground him, reminding him he wasn’t alone—and then they heard the footsteps, and JARVIS’ attempt to delay the inevitable.

It wasn’t enough.

“—no, I _need_ to talk to—” Steve was saying, even as he started to open the door, before freezing and flinging it open without regard to his strength, and surging in, worry in every line of his face. “ ** _Tony!_** ”

“Oh, fuck.” Tony couldn’t help but mutter, in one of the rare moments he had between coughs. There was no way Steve could’ve missed it, and there was no deterring Captain America when he was on a mission.

Dammit, he should’ve put his lab on lockdown the moment he felt the itch, the way he’d used to before, but he’d been _weak_ and hadn’t wanted to be _alone_ for this, but...fuck. Fuck! He leaned more into Natasha, as the footsteps approached him, and focused on coughing into his handkerchief instead of looking at the face of everything he’d done his level best to avoid. Fuck, if he didn’t drown in flowers it’d be the guilt that got him, he just _knew_ it.

“Tony, are you—do you need me to call Medical? Where’s the bleeding? Natasha, what—those are roses. What’s going on?”

Every word felt like a jackhammer to his heart, and Tony couldn’t help but curl into Natasha even more, because....fuck. And he couldn't say a word, because the rose petals _just kept coming_ and _Steve was watching him and—_

“Tony, just focus on getting it all out.” Natasha said evenly, still rubbing circles onto his back and not looking away either, “Steve, later. We’re kinda busy right now, please step back and give him some space.”

Tony nodded and Steve lurched back as if burned, and even if he was focused on just surviving this latest round of... _ **it,**_ he couldn’t help but hear the conversation going on without him as he focused his breathing the way he’d learned in Afghanistan, and practiced countless times since. Focused on not choking, focused on breathing when the rest of his body was screaming for air and his lungs were unable to follow through.

“-not the first time it’s happened. Is this what you guys were keeping from-”

“Not now, Steve.”

“ _How long?_ ” And the agony in his voice was doing Tony absolutely _no_ favors, at all.

“-didn’t want to worry you-”

“My best friend is **_dying_** in front of me and none of you—”

“Steve, don’t.” Tony managed to say, once the worst of it was past. “It’s on me, I was the one that asked.”

“ _Tony—_ ”

“Now’s not a good time, Steve. It’s not over yet.” Natasha cut in, and Tony _really_ didn’t deserve these people in his life, wow. [ _Also: oh great, Natasha knew him well enough to know how this usually went? So much for not making her worry…crap._ ]

As he focused on getting the last, stubborn petals out, he heard Steve’s quiet, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“...water bottle or mouthwash, if you don’t mind. JARVIS should have the tea ready soon.”

“Right.” And with that, Steve all-but-ran to get it.

“This is going to suck, isn’t it.” Tony muttered, and didn’t flinch when Natasha wrapped him up in a quiet hug.

“Want me to stick around?”

“I...don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Steve came back, Tony’d managed to mostly regain his composure. He didn’t look like he was dying anymore, at least, and between cleaning up the mess on the bench and putting away the handkerchief, there was next to no hint of the sea of red Steve had walked in on.

Natasha hadn’t left his side since before he’d started the coughing fit, and Tony’s fairly certain she’s the only reason he’s not hyperventilating about the upcoming talk. Between her quiet murmuring in Russian, and the hand she's got on his shoulder, her presence grounds him, reminds him he’s not alone, and...it helps.

Even if part of him can’t help but feel that there’s no way it can end well, because this was the _exact_ scenario he’d been trying to avoid, but...he could do this. [ ~~ _He **had** to._~~ ]

 

 

Steve’s footsteps were deafening in the otherwise-silent lab, and faltered when he saw them. Them, and the pristine bench, but he pressed onwards and pulled up a chair after giving Tony the water bottle.

Then, he leaned forward, and in a tone that was _very carefully_ not accusing, not angry, not reproachful, just resolute—said, “How long.”

Tony...didn’t know what to say.

But Steve deserved an answer, even if it was ugly. Even if he _hated_ it, and part of Tony’s heart was breaking because he _knew_ that this would be the thing to ruin their friendship, if he hadn’t before. _This_ would be what made one of the relationships he treasured the most into an awkward mess, would be what made Steve back off once he learned how Tony felt about him.

“Tony, want me to—” Natasha asked, and Tony felt another surge of warmth even as Steve’s face darkened because he knew she was all but allergic to emotions and this talk would be…dicey.

“No, this is...I think I can handle it.” He waved her off, and she gave him one last pat on the arm before getting up.

“Good luck, you two.” She said, shot Steve an unreadable look, and left.

Tony let his eyes track her path, instead of looking at Steve, as he started.

“Don’t hate Nat, or the team, I was the one who asked. And for the record, I didn’t tell them either; they all figured it out by themselves.”

“The dates.” Steve breathed, and yep, it was all coming together. [ ~~ _Fuck._~~ ]

“Natasha was the first to know, yes. And I asked her not to tell. Although, Cap? I’d have though you’d have been happy she focused on me instead of you.”

“Tony, this _isn’t—_ ” Steve cut himself off, and took a deep breath. Then, in a more measured voice, continued, “I was **_worried,_** for the longest time. You weren’t—and then the team—”

“I didn’t want you to worry. Any of you. I’m sorry.”

“For not telling me, or that I found out?”

“Sir, the tea is ready.” JARVIS cut in, saving them both from the sudden silence, and Tony made to get up before Steve glared at him to stay put, before moving to get it himself.

Once he was alone, Tony leaned forward and rubbed his temples. Man, he was no less cut out for this sort of talk than Natasha was, like, at all.

Cutthroat board meetings? Check. Dealings with plausibly-deniable warlords who might or might not have been vetted by government agencies? Sure, even if he wan’t proud of the Merchant of Death. Saying no to the Ten Rings in Afghanistan? No problem, Iron Man's on the case.  _This,_ however?

Houston, he was _so_ not ready for it. But Steve deserved an answer.

By the time Steve returned, chipped mug of chamomile in hand, Tony had mostly pulled himself together again, and already formulated several possible battle plans and escape routes...that all evaporated the moment Steve set foot in the room. Apparently, though, he was able to spot the exhaustion on his face, and after he passed Tony the tea, paused.

“Tony, are you...would you rather we talk about this later?”

He wanted to say yes, so badly. Wanted to postpone destroying one of the best things he’d ever had, but…he sighed. “Steve, trust me. This has been a long time in coming. Just hit me with it.”

“Just... _who?_ You’d mentioned you were demiromantic, but I would have thought that the Hanahaki disease wouldn’t…”

Right. The crux of the matter. Because Steve was nothing if not direct.

Tony took a sip of tea to both fortify himself and get some time to think about how to best word his answer, before mentally going ‘fuck it’, and dove in.

“Yes, I’m demi. Doesn’t mean I can’t fall in love, though, Steve.” He said, and quirked a corner of his mouth at the irony.

“But the dates...just... ** _who?!_** You’re—Tony, you’re _dying from **roses.**_ I can’t— is there anything—”

“ _Easy,_ Cap, it’s not that easy, or simple.” Tony cut him off, before he said anything he would regret once he found out. “You don't know who it is. And who’s to say I’ll die from it?”

“ _Tony._ Stop deflecting. **_Who._** ”

It took every shred of resolve he had, for Tony to look Steve in the eye, for that. To force himself to answer truthfully, because this friendship was one of the things he’d treasured the most, and Steve deserved the truth even if his stupid, traitorous heart ruined everything.

“I’m so, **_so_** sorry, Steve.” He said, and bit the bullet. “I’m sorry. It’s...it’s you. It’s always been you.”

The look of dawning horror on Steve’s face broke his heart, and he could only bear to look at it for a few seconds before looking down at the now-empty mug in his hands.

“I’m sorry, if it ruins anything—I really value your friendship. I’m sorry.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and gritted his teeth because his throat suddenly had a lump in it and Tony wasn’t sure if it was another round of coughing or simply the urge to cry, and shook his head as he stood up.

Not looking at Steve, anymore, he started to make his way out, already making plans to take the suit out for a flight, or something. [ ~~ ** _Anything._**~~ ] “I—I’ve got a surgery scheduled, in a couple of weeks. Things’ll be back to normal, after that. I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable, I understand. I know you don’t think of me that way, and I’m sorry for causing you so much stress.”

He gave Steve one last smile, on his way out, deliberately not looking him in the face because that first flash of horror had been more than enough, and fled.

 

 

It was late, when Tony finally returned from his flight.

He’d ignored no less than fifteen phone calls and forty-eight text messages from Pepper, Rhodey, and the team, and nearly his entire flight was a blur, but...he’d needed the space, after ruining one of the best friendships he’d had in his life.

Now, even if he was still off-kilter from it, at least he’d managed to rebuild his defenses, and maybe he might even be able to look Steve in the eye after a month or so. In the meantime, there was always plenty of work to get done, and Malibu was always beautiful this time of year, yep, he should make the arrangements and get on that stat…

It’s not until after he’s finished removing the armor, however, that he realizes he’s not alone on the rooftop.

“You never did let me answer, you know.” A quiet voice says, and Tony had _not_ expected a heart attack to be the thing that did him in.

Then, he shores his [ ~~ _pitiful_~~ ] defenses up, and does his best to play along. “Sorry, I’ve never been good at rejection.”

“I can see that.”

“Can you.”

“I mean, you ran off before I could say a thing.” Steve said, and started to approach him slowly, telegraphing every movement even if his face was shadowed.

“Right.” Tony was rooted to the spot, and wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because his heart’s breaking took up so much of his focus, even now. Yeah, that was probably it.

“You’d never said a thing, Tony.” And now there was a gentle weight on Tony’s arm, and part of Tony wanted to lean in so, _very_ badly.

He gave a self-deprecating smile as he replied, “Like I said, didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Even if it was killing you.”

“Not the first time it’s happened, you know. Palladium wasn’t fun either, but I’ll live.” The weight got very heavy, all of a sudden, and Tony leaned back for a moment before getting enveloped in a tight hug and he did _not_ know what was going on anymore.

“I hadn’t thought of you that way before because you’re always with Natasha and Pepper and _those dates_ and I didn't know you were _hurting_ and oh, God, I’m a _horrible_ friend, _I’m so sorry._ ”

“Steve, I—” Tony started, before the itch in the back of his throat suddenly became unbearable and it was all he could do to just _breathe._

“I should’ve told you earlier. I love you.”

The itch was gone, both in the back of his throat, and in his chest.

They kiss, and then turned in for the night, beaming and leaning against each other.

Tony felt giddy, almost, and...he couldn't believe it.

“JARVIS? Cancel my appointment, you know the one. Don't need it anymore.”

“Consider it done, sir. May I offer you my congratulations? And shall I notify Ms. Potts and Mr. Rhodes as well?”

They exchanged a look, and nodded.

“Sure.” Tony says. “Let the team know, too, if you haven’t already.”

“…”

“They know, don't they.”

“Ms. Romanov has already expressed both her congratulations, and Mr. Odinson is currently breaking out the Asgardian mead and inviting everyone in the Tower for a toast.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys decide if Steve finds out about the previous surgeries, but if he did, cue _even more angst_ once he realizes this was round 3 for Tony. The horror Tony noticed was Steve going ‘oh shit I didn’t even notice’, rather than homophobia, as Steve had genuinely never thought of him that way before Tony’d brought it up. Also why the Hanahaki disease didn’t immediately go away after the reveal; while Tony was out, Steve sorted through his feelings.
> 
> —————
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing romance, so if anything looks weird that's why. [Emotions? I'm allergic to them, of of course this fic's got to be heavy on the angst. Of course.]


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